


Swept Away I'm Stolen

by Ims0s0rry



Category: Jane the Virgin (TV)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Attempt at Humor, Bad Puns, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, Fluff and Smut, canon referenced cheating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-17
Updated: 2018-01-31
Packaged: 2019-03-05 03:25:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13379121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ims0s0rry/pseuds/Ims0s0rry
Summary: Title from Adele's Skyfall.This is exactly what you think it is.(if what you thought was "hey what if Rose and Elena were still international crime lords but Luisa was the secret agent sent to stop them")





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Argh, I told myself I would never write an AU for this show since the source material is insanely dramatic enough but then the other night I couldn't sleep and I was thinking about my sweet smol gay child and my brain went "you know, Luisa's an alcoholic and a shameless womanizer. You know who else fits those requirements? James Bond. So what if Rose was still a criminal but Luisa was trying to stop her and fell in love with her instead of being the naive girlfriend."
> 
> Someone take this idea away from me and rewrite it.

Luisa is going through patient charts at her desk when her watch beeps. It shouldn't since it's not synced with her phone, but no one else knows it's a solely functioning encrypted smartwatch courtesy of the government. She presses her thumb against its face. When it accepts her fingerprint, the screen flickers to reveal the message: tomorrow's date and 900.

She closes her eyes and tips her head back. She was doing so well too and now she has to go on another "bender".

"See you tomorrow," one of the nurses says when she leaves for the day. Luisa gives him a tight smile, knowing full well she won't be in.

She packs one small suitcase and books the first flight out to Washington DC in the morning. She considers going out to buy a bottle of vodka and then pouring it out just to make it extra realistic but ultimately decides against it. She probably won't be able to help herself and she needs to not be hungover to catch her flight tomorrow. Besides, she reasons, the others will jump to conclusions easily enough as she systematically trashes her apartment.

...

She flashes her badge as she enters DIA headquarters the next day, nodding to the staff.

"What's this about, Buck?" she barks, barging into the office.

Her superior officer's secretary jumps and drops his files. "Oh, Miss Alver! Yes, we were expecting you. Um, one moment." He drops to his knees to gather the scattered papers. Luisa takes pity on him and helps him out.

"Thanks," he squeaks, taking the papers she's offering to him with shaking hands. "You can head in whenever you're ready."

_Usually he's blushing by now too._

"Anytime, Adrian." She raises an eyebrow and snaps her teeth together with an audible click, grinning when he sputters and flushes.*

?! looks up from her laptop when Luisa ambles in. "Good morning, Agent. Sit down. We've got an assignment for you."

"Of course. What is it this time?"

?! hands her a manila file, which Luisa flips through.

"Three days ago, someone broke into the Pentagon and stole the codes for the nuclear warheads before blowing up the whole east wing. We have reason to believe that the codes were downloaded onto a flash drive and are now in the hands of Mutter, a drug lord based out of Switzerland. Due to various treaties, we can't risk being caught with a special forces team in their borders without risking the threat of war. You'll have to go in alone."

"Hang on a second," Luisa says, closing her eyes and pinching the bridge of her nose. "Why weren't these codes uploaded to a cloud or something?"

"They're the keys to our warheads. We couldn't risk the cloud getting hacked."

Her brow furrows. "So they were just sitting on a computer?"

?! glowers at her. "We didn't hire you to ask questions. We hired you to complete missions that others couldn’t. Now are you onboard or not?"

She snorts. "Do I have a choice?"

It's not a secret that she hates these assignments, but she doesn't have a choice, not really. She joined the Navy right out of high school and somehow got roped into all this intelligence/special combat business. Even though she’s not technically active duty anymore, she's still enlisted for the next eight years and the agency can call her in whenever they want to.

"No. I suppose you don't."

"But my civilian identity is about to go up in flames. The hospital can't afford to keep me on if I keep disappearing out of the blue for weeks at a time."

?! sighs. "And is there no possibility of you accepting one of the freelance positions we can set up for you?"

"?!" (She pronounces this is as an indignant exhalation.) "Money isn't the problem. I could've lived off my father for the rest of my life, but I chose not to take any of his money. I chose to join the military and go to medical school and become a doctor on my own. And now the hospital has put me on probation because of these missions you keep sending me on. Another strike and they'll fire me. I don't want to throw that all away because you people keep derailing my life!"

?! props her elbows on the desk and runs her hands over her face. "Alright, I'll make you a deal. This is your last assignment. You'll be on reserve permanently after you retrieve the codes. I'll have someone talk to the hospital and see if we can't salvage your position."

"Fine." She leans back in her chair and crosses her legs. "What's the story?"

"You're Lydia Aguilar, a gynecologist attending a conference in Zurich. Details are in the file. Read and burn once you've memorized everything, as per usual. Mutter was seen a week ago at this five star hotel in Geneva. That's all we know."

Luisa scowls. "That's not a whole lot to go on."

"You've dealt with worse. Do your thing. Shut her down." ?! opens a drawer and places a wallet, passport, and her service weapon on the desk. "Try not to exceed the credit limit on the cards this time, alright, Alver? The agency isn't here to pay for your bad habits." She jerks her chin towards the door. "Now get to it. Your plane leaves in two hours."

...

Luisa stumbles into her hotel room and faceplants onto the bedspread. No matter how many times she goes on these insane trips, she never gets used to the jet lag. She groans and flops over on her back. As much as she'd love to go straight to bed, she's going to hate herself in the morning if she wakes up feeling even grubbier and greasier than she does now.

So she drags herself upright and showers, brushes her teeth, and slips into her sexy pajamas: a holey, oversized t-shirt. But as exhausted as she is, she suddenly can't sleep. After a few hours of tossing and turning, she considers taking a pill. She's trying to distance herself from the hazy drug and alcohol fueled life she led before when she was going through med school and chasing down those wanted by the government. But she also knows that the more days she spends in bed getting over jet lag, the worse the culture shock is going to be when she tries to return to her regular life. And she just wants to be left alone and go to being a normal person. She's been employed at her dream job for five years after all this time between military duty, school, and residency. She's seeing a lovely woman named Allison. They're thinking of moving in together. Her father and brother are starting to support her fight with alcoholism and take the effort to see why she struggles so much with it instead of just dismissing it. Things are going well. Taking this pill could be the start of a slippery slope to ending up in that bad place again.

But she thinks about going home and dry swallows the sleeping pill.

When the alarm goes off the next morning, she slaps at the nightstand until it quiets and rolls over to frown up at the ceiling. It feels like she's going in blind compared to her past missions. Is Mutter even still in Switzerland?

She sighs and sits up, running a hand through her rumpled hair. Sitting around and waiting for something to happen has never been her strong suit. It makes her restless. And being restless leads to drinking to pass the time. Maybe she'll talk to the manager and see if she can wrangle the guest list from a week ago and cross reference it with security footage.

Luisa swings her suitcase up onto the bed and takes out a sleek little black dress, holding it up for inspection. Is it too early in the morning to pull out her LBD? Yes. Is she being overly dramatic? Also yes.

But it's so worth it when she strides into the lounge and the most people's eyes flicker to her and take her in head to toe. She slides onto a seat at the bar and orders a Sprite. She and the cute bartender make small talk and she would even consider a quick hookup if she were straight, but alas. Of course, he doesn't need to know that. Eventually, the conversation progresses to the point where she leans forward, giving him a generous view down her dress and says, "Hey, do you think I could talk to the manager?"

He drags his eyes up to her face, looking dumbfounded.

"Relax, it's nothing bad. Just want to make sure the management knows how much I'm enjoying your service...Dominic," she says, reaching over the bar to lay a hand on his chest. She isn't sure if she's laying it on a bit thick but apparently it works when he bobs his head and scurries off.

Now the manager is someone Luisa could definitely sleep with. She's a redhead (her personal weakness) with a pert little nose and a neck she could see herself pressing kisses from jaw to...

"Hello, I'm Heidi von Ocher." She sticks her hand out to shake. "How can I help you?"

Dominic, the poor soul, hovers closeby as he wipes down glasses.

"I just wanted to let you know that Dominic here has been doing a great job."

"That's good to hear. We aim to serve your every need here at the Four Seasons." There's uncertainty in her smile. A simple compliment isn’t really something you'd get the manager for. "If that's all...?"

"Actually," Luisa sidles up against her and murmurs, "I was wondering if we'd be able to discuss a matter of some importance elsewhere."

...

"Can you...get me...ohhh, yes, right there, the security footage...for a week ago?" Luisa says in between torrid kisses.

Heidi pauses, her hands under Luisa's dress. Her face is shadowy in the dim light of the storage closet. "Whatever for? I thought you said you were a doctor?"

"Yes, but..." She wracks her brain for any excuse but nothing comes to mind. "Okay, here’s the thing. I'm actually an undercover agent looking for a crime lord who's stolen the codes to fire nuclear warheads and she stayed here a week ago."

Heidi stares at her for a few long moments before she shrugs. "I mean, if that's what you're into."

"No, you don't understand," Luisa starts, but then Heidi takes off her bra and Luisa's poor gay brain short-circuits.

Fun fact: Heidi yodels when she climaxes. It startles Luisa so much she lurches into a rickety shelf and brings down an avalanche of mini-bottles of shampoo and bars of soap.

"Come on," Heidi says, grinning as she pulls a disgruntled Luisa out of the heap of complimentary toiletries. "Let's take this upstairs."

"I really do need that security footage," Luisa says afterwards as they lie side by side in bed.

"Okay, super sexy secret agent woman," Heidi mumbles sleepily as she curls into her. "Wake me up in three hours for my next shift. I'll get it to you then."

...

"This is Detective Aguilar and she's working a drug case. She needs access to the surveillance video for last week. Please accommodate all her needs. Come to me with any questions you might have. Understood?" Heidi's gaze lands on each member of the security team in their cramped backroom and nods once.

Luisa silently berates herself. Undercover cop would've been much more believable than the truth.

"Good luck," Heidi whispers to Luisa, patting her ass on the way out

The head security guard points to a desktop. "All the footage older than 24 hours is on there. It's all sorted by date and time. Pretty self explanatory. Knock yourself out."

"Thank you," Luisa says, taking a seat. She cracks her knuckles and tunes everyone out as she gets to work.

According to ?!'s file, Mutter was seen here on Wednesday around one. Even with the time window, squinting at grainy black and white video for five different monitors (one for each entrance) is a pain. She slows each one down and replays each from 11-2 just to make sure she won't miss Mutter. And yet, after several hours, she still hasn't caught sight of her target.

She runs a hand through her hair and downs her fourth cup of coffee. There has to be something she's overlooking. Out of curiosity, she flicks through the other monitors. Most of them are hallways of the various floors where the guests stay, but Mutter wouldn't have been able to access them without going through the lobby.

...unless she was never a guest.

She's been looking at this all wrong. Yes, she was seen at the hotel, but that doesn't mean she checked in. She sits up and scrolls through the various feeds until she finds the camera for the outdoor restaurant. It takes a few more hours of fine-combing through the footage but there, in oversized sunglasses and a floppy sun hat, is Mutter eating lunch with an unidentified woman. With trembling fingers, she freezes a clear frame and blows it up as best she can before printing it.

"Could you get me the receipts for the restaurant for Wednesday last week?" Luisa asks the head security guard.

The woman shakes her head. "Sorry, you'll have to ask Heidi. That's outside my jurisdiction. Did you find something?"

"Would you happen to know who this is?"

She squints at the pixelated photo. "You can barely make out her face."

"I know, but is there anything you can remember? Please, it's important. She and this woman were having lunch last Wednesday from 1:17 to 2:23."

The guard wrinkles her brow. "Wait a minute, Wednesday at lunch you said? That could be Juicy Jordan, the world famous pro-wrestler. She was here for lunch with a woman in a sun hat."

"Thank you, thank you so much," Luisa says, rushing for the door.

Heidi smirks when she hands over the receipts in the kitchen. "You're taking this very seriously."

"You know, when duty calls."

"See you tonight?"

"I'm not sure. They could need me overseas at a moment's notice."

"Well if you stick around, you should let me know."

"Mmp," Luisa says as Heidi pulls her into a kiss. Then Heidi finger guns as she backs out of the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *[Please Yara Martinez, I'm only a baby gay. Let me live.](http://images6.fanpop.com/image/photos/38200000/Yara-Martinez-jane-the-virgin-38259232-496-279.gif)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So what really happened in Germany?

The receipts are signed by a Diane Noella. That must be an alias that Mutter's using. Luisa sends a request to search the name to headquarters but doesn't feel very optimistic about it. After all, if the agency can forge identities for field agents, a criminal mastermind like Mutter must have tons of identities linked to accounts at her disposal. Still, they might get lucky.

A quick internet search reveals that Juicy Jordan will be performing at Oktoberfest tomorrow. There's no time to waste. She packs up and checks out, leaving a lipstick stained napkin with her number at the front desk as a farewell for Heidi. She tells herself that if there were time, she'd give Heidi a proper goodbye but she's honestly pretty relieved that the train leaves in twenty minutes.

...

Luisa doesn't know what she was expecting when she gets to Munich. She knew that Oktoberfest was huge, but she didn't realize it would basically take over the entire city. It would be overwhelming in the best of circumstances but when the pressure of finding a minor celebrity in the crush of all these people that somehow links to the woman who's carrying the codes to launch several hundred nukes on top of having to resist the pull of all the free flowing beer is somewhat more daunting.

Still, she makes her way through the crowds to where Juicy Jordan is supposedly performing tomorrow. There are people in the process of setting up the ring. To her surprise, Juicy Jordan is in fact present. She seems to be conferring with her posse, if the matching sweatsuits are indicative of anything.

Luisa waits until she dismisses them before ducking around security and approaching her. "Juicy Jordan?"

She gives her a onceover. "Are you a reporter?"

"No, I'm Detective Aguilar." Might as well stick to the story since it seems the least likely to raise questions. "I'm looking for this woman." She holds up the blurry surveillance video photo. "You were seen in her company last week at the Four Seasons."

"Oh yeah, that's Diane. Is she in trouble?"

Luisa has to fight hard not to roll her eyes. An international criminal, in trouble? Who would've thought? But she needs to play it cool, so she just says, "She's wanted for questioning in connection to a case I'm working. Do you know where I could find her?"

Jordan twists her mouth. "Listen, she's my friend. She's a very private person. And I'm not in the habit of giving away friends' secrets."

"I'm not asking you to give away any skeletons she might've shared with you, I just need to find her."

"I don't know..."

"Please? A lot of people could die if I don't get to the bottom of this."

"Well, if it's a matter of life or death...how about this? In the spirit of Oktoberfest, I'll tell you what you want to know if you can drink me under the table."

And a very small voice in Luisa's head tells her that this is a very bad idea. But it does seem like the most straightforward way to get the information out of Jordan. And it doesn't help that she's itching to wipe the self-satisfied sneer off this woman's face. She coolly rolls up the sleeves of her oxford. "You sure you wanna take that chance?"

"I don't have anything scheduled until tomorrow. How much could a lightweight like you take anyway?"

It goes without saying that it ends up very badly.

Luisa wakes up in the middle of the wrestling ring the next afternoon wearing a dirndl. "Ughhh, I need to pee," she groans as she gingerly sits up.

Huh, that's interesting. She's not alone in the ring. She is, in fact, surrounded by scores of bruised and bloody burly men.

"Uhhh." She pats herself down, checking for anything out of the ordinary. But she seems fine, besides her bladder threatening to burst and being very, very nauseous.

"About time you woke up. And you didn't sleep with anyone, if that's what you're wondering." Juicy Jordan is watching her from outside the ring, dressed in red velour pants and a matching sports bra.

Luisa winces. "Hold that thought," she says as she squeezes between the ropes and topples onto the ground, stopping to retch. When she returns from the bathroom, Jordan is leaning against the platform. She offers her a bottle of water.

"That bad, huh?" She seems impressed.

"I think I might still be drunk," Luisa mumbles between great gulps of the water. "What happened yesterday?"

So Jordan recounts the thrilling epic of how they amassed quite a crowd at one of the tents, and how she herself passed out after a measly third stein. What happens next is cobbled together from various eyewitness accounts but apparently Luisa smashed the all-time record and then went on to challenge all the married men present to a match in the ring instead of keeling over from liver failure.

"Turns out you speak German."

Luisa raises her eyebrows. "I do?"

"Well, you know at least one sentence: I'm not interested in you but I will have sex with your wife."

"Huh." She takes another sip. "I wonder where I picked that up."

"And this is the result of that declaration," Jordan says, gesturing to the unconscious men. "Thirty-four total knockouts. Several broken bones. You're quite the fighter when you're drunk."

She thinks of her combat training and chuckles nervously. It's amazing no one was seriously injured. "Imagine that."

"Have you ever considered becoming a pro-wrestler? We could definitely use more aggressive girls like you on the circuit."

"No thank you. I have a career I love." It takes her a moment to remember her cover. "And speaking of which, I believe you owe me information regarding Diane."

"Oh yeah. A deal's a deal. Let’s see...it was Wednesday? Diane invited me out to lunch that day as we were both in Geneva on business. She wanted to know if I was interested in coming to a party she was throwing at the Dragonara in Malta. She was very coy about what it was for but she did mention they were celebrating something explosive. But I had to turn her down. I'm booked solid throughout the next month."

"Did she say when?"

"Friday night."

"Okay, Friday night at the Dragonara in Malta. Thank you for your help."

"If you have trouble finding her, look for Rose. She's tall, gorgeous, a redhead obviously. Nothing happens around Diane without Rose knowing."

"Got it. Thank you." She clutches her head. "I need to go."

"Good luck. And congratulations."

"Ugh, it doesn't feel like it."

"Um...do you need someone to look after you to make sure you don't, you know, possibly choke on your vomit and die?"

"Oh no," she says, waving off Jordan's concerns with an airy hand. "I'm an old pro at this."

And she staggers back to her hotel room, pops a metadoxine, and curls up around the toilet to sleep off the damage to her liver.

It comes as no surprise that Luisa feels even more like she's dying when she wakes up.

"Oh my god, I'm never drinking again," she says to no one in particular, which she always says when she gets a hangover.

Still, she flushes the toilet, picks herself up off the floor, and shuffles into the shower to stand under the spray for two hours. Once she feels slightly more human, she collapses into bed. It’s safe now that she's out of the woods.

It's nearly eighteen hours later when she wakes up again. She feels disgusting, but in a more manageable way. She may have wasted two and a half days being completely hammered and feeling the aftereffects of that, but she still has five days before the party. Plenty of time. She's got this completely under control. In fact, she is so totally in control that could probably handle a little hair of the dog just so she can get back to work on stopping Mutter faster.

So she orders a glass of wine along with a nice steak dinner while she checks for flights going out to Malta.

...

It's a picturesque autumn day when she arrives at the Dragonara Point. The sky is cloudless, searing blue and the waves rock the fleet of sailboats and yachts in the harbor.

Luisa feels confident enough to single-handedly crush the patriarchy under her three inch heels as she struts past the gardens and into the casino itself. She needs to step up her game to deal with the tycoons that Mutter is obviously entertaining so instead of her trusty little black dress, she's opted for a form-fitting, high-collared, backless dress in a deep shade of navy.

Past the entryway and the statue of Neptune opens up into what looks like a ballroom, with a small band playing against one wall. Further back is the venue proper, complete with various green felt covered tables and slot machines, naturally wreathed in cigarette smoke. And running to the left through both rooms is the bar.

She makes a few rounds, but sees neither Mutter or a red-haired beauty. Just to blend in, she plays a few rounds of poker, but she's downright terrible at it and loses $300 to the house before she decides to call it quits. As many demons as she has, at least gambling isn't one of them.

She tries not to be too disappointed when she retires to the bar. Mutter's big bash is still a few days away if Juicy Jordan's information is to be believed. There's no guarantee she would be here early. Still, this is one of her best dresses and she's irritated that she looks so good and there's no notorious criminal to show off for.

"What can I get you, ma'am?" the bartender asks.

She's already fallen off the wagon, might as well indulge while she's still undercover. Besides, the agency will make sure she spends at least a week in rehab (more if she actually needs it) just to make sure her story holds up if anyone goes looking.

"A vodka martini, please. Shaken, not stirred." She watches the smattering of couples on the dance floor while she moodily sips her drink. Another patron orders a "flaming absinthe" beside her which she assumes is some kind of fancy cocktail. She pays them no mind, at least until the bartender sets down a glass of green liquor and then proceeds to actually light it on fire.

"That's a bold choice," she comments, finally turning to address the piercing eyes of the redhead sitting next to her. _Oh. This must be Rose._

She gives Luisa a toothy smile. "What can I say? I like to play with fire." The flames cast flickering shadows across her face. And Luisa suddenly gets the same feeling as when she stares down a bottle of vodka as she studies Rose: this could very well destroy her. But the temptation to give in is nearly a physical force. She could resist. She still has a chance to walk away without alerting Rose; prioritize her health instead of the mission.

Well, she was never very good at impulse control. And since she's already lost her sobriety anyway...

"I'm Lydia."

"Rose."

They chat. Luisa sticks to the bare bones of her cover story. After the conference in Zurich, she decided to take a week or two to see the Mediterranean coast and found herself a bit further from the coast than she'd originally thought. Rose tells her she's an associate at a firm that specializes in corporate law, here to help her boss with smoothing out any bumps that might come with a client acquiring a company. Luisa reveals that she only knows the basics of divorce law from her father's numerous divorces and launches into a story about how one of his ex-wives wanted her kidney back that she'd given him when they were still "in love." Rose crinkles her nose when she laughs and places her hand on Luisa's forearm to steady herself. Luisa's gaze lingers on the hand.

Now that evening has fallen, the band picks up a more lively tune. According to Jordan, Rose is her in with Mutter, but it's too early to question Rose about her without raising suspicion so she takes a leap of faith.

"Would you like to dance?"


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Caution: smut ahead.
> 
> (Is this how lesbian sex works? ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ Hell if I know.)

"Yeah. Why not?"

Luisa blinks. "Really?"

She laughs. "Why'd you ask then?"

"I didn't think you'd actually say yes. Okay, give me one second." She downs the rest of her martini like a shot to settle her nerves. "Alright."

Rose stands and offers her hand. Luisa starts to stand too, but pauses. "Wait. Hold on." She pulls out a pocket knife from her clutch and slashes a thigh-high slit in her dress. Then she stands. "Much better for dancing."

"I wasn't expecting that," Rose says as Luisa pulls her out onto the floor.

"Oh, I'm full of surprises."

The band starts a spirited 4/4 number. When Rose hesitates in the placement of her hands, Luisa slips her own hand onto Rose's back, under her arm with careful deliberation.

Rose looks down at her and tilts her head. "You can lead?"

"Like I said, full of surprises."

Rose bites her lip. "I do love a woman who knows what she wants and goes for it."

Something in Luisa's ribcage thrums.

They glide across the floor in sync, Rose responsive to the merest touch of where Luisa wants to go. Luisa spins her out and pulls her in closer, her hand sliding down to the middle of Rose's back, and does her best to press their cheeks together, angling her head up so she can murmur, "Not bad, but I find ballroom tango so dull and restrictive. How's your Argentine?"

"Try me," she replies with a hint of a smirk. "You're not the only one with tricks up their sleeve."

That's all the encouragement Luisa needs. Between one beat and another, Rose switches from measured paces to the slinky cross step seamlessly. Her center of gravity is lower too, her torso slightly coiled instead of rigid and vertical. It lends her movements a suggestive tone, especially when she incorporates exaggerated hip sways between every step. There is something undeniably graceful and inexplicably dangerous about the way she moves.

Luisa strikes a pose, her back leg stretched out behind her as she points her toes and slides her foot in an arc before she casts their linked hands straight out. They move together to the right, and then Luisa twirls Rose.

"I have to say I'm impressed," Luisa says.

And quick as a snake scenting the air, Rose pops her foot against the inside of Luisa's knee like a swooning lover. It's a dangerous move if caught unawares (which Luisa was), liable to send both parties sprawling if even a second off-tempo.

"Don’t underestimate me," Rose whispers into her ear. She kicks her foot up, stomping it between steps as she advances.

"You? I wouldn't dare." Luisa takes charge again, guiding them through the throng of couples. At a lull in the music, she catches Rose's foot on the floor and pulls it toward her, keeping her eyes locked on Rose's. In retaliation, at the end of the next eight count, Rose arches an eyebrow as she rubs the top of her foot along Luisa's calf.

As the song winds down, in a final flare of dramatics, Rose hooks a leg around Luisa's waist. Not to be outdone, Luisa drags her along until the song ends and then dips her.

While the other dancers break apart and applaud the band, Luisa brings Rose back upright. Rose bends her head to rest her forehead against Luisa's while they catch their breath. She smells of something citrusy but there’s a hint of ozone under it.

"Are you...busy after this?" Rose asks.

"What did you have in mind?"

She can almost feel Rose’s eyelashes as they flicker. All she’d have to do is tip her chin up to kiss her. But they're interrupted when the music starts up again, and people resume dancing. Rose removes herself from Luisa's embrace, but keeps their hands joined as she tugs Luisa off the floor. Luisa is a little dazed from the whole performance so she's caught by surprise when Rose turns around suddenly to face her. Luisa crashes into her, but Rose reaches out and steadies her in time.

"Actually." Rose licks her lips. If Luisa didn't know better, she'd say she was nervous. But that's ridiculous. What would the right-hand woman of a crime lord in possession of America's nuclear codes have to fear from little ole her? "I was wondering if you'd like to stay over tonight."

"That's a little forward," Luisa teases before she drapes her arms around Rose's neck and stands on her tiptoes to press a kiss to her mouth. It’s chaste, but it makes that feeling in her chest grow until it reverberates up to her wrists like a plucked harp string. "But yeah, I'd love to."

Rose's posture visibly relaxes. "Okay, good. I have a great pun and I was worried I wouldn't be able to use it."

"Go on."

"Well this is a casino. And I'm about to get lucky."

"That's...terrible." But she laughs in spite of herself, especially when Rose pouts.

"Is not!"

"Yeah it is, but by all means, continue to seduce me with your bad puns."

Rose wraps her arms around Luisa's waist and grins roguishly. "If the puns don't work for you, I've got other surefire seduction techniques in my repertoire."

It's a shame Luisa never sees Rose play poker. She would've realized sooner that Rose never bluffs.

They stroll from the casino to the adjoining hotel hand in hand. Somehow they've transitioned from bad puns to cheesy pick-up lines.

"What about 'I must be in a museum because you're a work of art'?"

Luisa winces. "So overdone it's burned to a crisp."

Rose smirks. "Lydia, my name is Rose. I have roses on my dress. I live for overdone."

"Okay. I see your trite pick-up line and raise you: You're pretty and I'm cute. Together we'd be pretty cute."

"Well, that's just true." They stop in front of Rose's room. "Okay okay, what about this?" She lets go of her hand to dig in her clutch for her keycard. "I was feeling off today until you came along. And now I'm turned on." The door opens.

Luisa snorts and rolls her eyes, but she ends up choking a little when Rose bites her lip and quirks her finger in invitation.

"You can't use the lip bite. That's cheating." But she allows herself to be drawn into a loose embrace.

"I never said I was gonna play fair." Rose says as she skims her nose against Luisa's jawline.

A tingle races down her spine. She wonders idly if this is what it feels like to be mired in quicksand. Realizing that you're in over your head but only after you've been trapped.

Rose's eyes are dark before she tilts Luisa's chin up to kiss her. Despite the desire in her eyes, her lips are gentle. Luisa pulls a gasp out of her when she nips at her bottom lip. She runs her tongue along the sharp edge of her teeth. Rose tastes of something tart, a bit of peppermint, and the dull bite of alcohol. Luisa thinks that it's something she could almost get drunk off of.

Right as it crosses her mind, she presses her mouth into the crook of Rose's neck to stifle her laugh.

"What?"

"I just thought of something really cheesy."

"Hmm?"

Luisa shakes her head, still pressed against Rose's neck.

"Oh, come on. You can't hint at it and then not say anything."

Luisa mumbles it into her skin like a shameful confession.

Rose laughs. It's rich and full-bodied. Luisa can feel it vibrate through her chest and her hands, splayed across Rose's back. It makes her shiver against Rose. "That is pretty bad."

"Told you so."

"Still kinda sexy."

"Oh, have I got one for you then." Luisa lowers her voice to a throaty growl. "I love the way that dress looks on you. But it would look even better on the floor."

Rose grins. "And you said my art line was clichéd."

But she doesn't resist when Luisa's clumsy fingers find the zipper at the back of her dress. Luisa frowns when the dress doesn't immediately fall to the floor.

"It has a clasp at the top, doesn't it?"

"I'm sorry. Here, let me—"

"No, I've got it."

When Rose presents her back, Luisa gathers her hair to one side and undoes the pesky little catch at the base of her neck. The enticing red dress sighs as it slips to the floor when Luisa slides her hands from Rose's shoulders down to her wrists. Luisa exhales shakily at the span of pale freckled skin, the curve and dip of her spine, and leans forward to press an open-mouthed kiss to one shoulder blade. Her skin tastes like sweat and the sea. Rose hums. Everything in Luisa aches for her touch.

She feels too confined, too restricted. She wants to feel Rose's skin against her own right now. She fumbles for her own zipper and steps out of her dress.

Rose sits on the edge of the bed and pulls down her onto her lap. Luisa loosens the straps on her heels and lets them fall with flat thuds. Rose tangles both hands in Luisa's bun and brings her hair tumbling free. Her gaze is hungry when Luisa threads her fingers through it. They gaze at each other for a moment, the span of a breath in and released, and then they're a mess of grasping hands and frantic kisses.

Amid the flurry of activity, bras and underwear are tossed aside. Rose scoots further back onto the bed and Luisa crawls after her like a predatory jungle cat. Rose gasps when Luisa fists her hand in her hair and draws it down to expose her neck. Her lips glide across the cool skin from her jaw to her neck. She takes her time licking down her throat to her collarbone, stopping to double her efforts every time Rose's breath hitches. But she moans when Luisa grazes the bottom of a breast with her lips. Pressure is building low in Luisa's abdomen, but she ignores it for now. She lingers on Rose's chest, lavishing attention everywhere but her nipples until she finally bites down on a breast, sucking a nipple into her mouth. Rose's hips spasm.

"Are you wet for me?" Luisa asks in a husky voice.

Rose whimpers in assent, one hand entangled in Luisa's hair.

Luisa kisses her way down Rose's abdomen, noticing an odd raised scar under her sternum. It looks like it could've been from a knife. There's no use in bringing it up now when there are more important matters to attend to. Instead, she runs her fingers over the muted ridges of Rose's hip bones. She settles herself between Rose's thighs and licks the inside of one from mid-thigh to just shy of her slit. Rose squirms.

Luisa smiles wickedly. "You are exquisite."

She does this several more times until Rose is wriggling under her. Then, she nips at the delicate skin between her thigh and her pelvis. Rose positively mewls, her hips pushing up against her. She can feel the femoral vein jumping under her mouth. Luisa sucks hard little bites into her skin. There'll be bruises on the inside of her thighs tomorrow.

Rose gasps, her fingers digging into her scalp. "Don't tease."

And speaking of the main attraction...

"Oh wait, wait." Luisa scrambles over to the edge of the mattress and casts about for her clutch. Rose raises herself up on her forearms to watch, breathing hard. "Got it." Luisa clambers back into position, sifting through the contents of her purse until she finds some crinkly packets and the travel sized bottle she's looking for.

Rose lifts an eyebrow. "What else do you have in there besides a knife, condoms, and now lube?"

"I was a girl scout. Be prepared. Never know when you're gonna get laid. Well that second part wasn't part of the motto, obviously." She frowns. "Didn't have room for my vibrator though."

"Next time, then. It's good you're concerned about safe sex though."

Luisa almost says that she's seen some nasty infections in her time, but that would completely ruin the mood. So instead she says, "Of course, I'm a doctor," and briskly cuts open a condom and applies lube liberally to one side.

Rose watches her, her eyes glittering.

"What?" Luisa asks, a bit self-conscious.

"You make safe sex sexy."

She scoffs. "Safe sex is always sexy."

"Yes, doctor." Rose pulls her back down.

Luisa positions the condom in place. Rose's breathing hitches when she feels the lube heat up and tingle against her swollen flesh. Luisa runs her tongue along her folds. Rose inhales shakily and pushes up against her. The pressure inside her is nearly unbearable. She rubs against the bedspread in an attempt to relieve it. Just a little bit longer.

Luisa swirls her tongue around her clit for several long minutes, relishing in Rose's little moans before she sucks sharply. Rose thrashes. And then Luisa slides one finger into her, keeping her lips around the little nub, and begins to thrust, Rose rocking against her. "More," she whispers.

Rose claws at her back as she adds another finger and increases her pace. "Oh god, yes."

Luisa curls her fingers, angling them and searching, searching...

 _There we go_ , she thinks when Rose cries out.

In the split second before Rose orgasms, everything freezes. Moonlight highlights the arc of her back, the contour of her jaw as her head is thrown back, the tendons standing out in her neck, her arms locked, and her hands fisted in the sheets. And Luisa feels a thrill run through her. Sleeping with a dangerous criminal and single-handedly (pun intended) driving her over the edge is what power feels like.

Rose's skin is damp with sweat. "Oh," she sighs, her limbs loosening.

Luisa tries not to look too pleased with herself, and utterly fails.

Rose sits up and pushes Luisa onto her back in one fluid motion. "Your turn," she murmurs.

It's a very satisfying night all around.

...

Luisa jerks into wakefulness when a sunbeam drifts right into her eye.

The thigh under her head shifts. "Dammit, I'm sorry. I forgot to close the blinds."

"Mmm?" She yawns and rubs her eyes.

Rose comes into focus, gazing down at her fondly. Luisa's nestled in her lap, Rose's fingers raking through her hair. "You're adorable for someone who's so..."

"Hmph?" She's not quite awake yet. There's a heavy sluggishness in her bones that makes her want to drag Rose down to cuddle for at least another hour. Not to mention if Rose keeps playing with her hair, she'll fall asleep again.

"Vigorous in bed."

"Mmhmm."

"You want some coffee?"

"Please."

"How do you take it?"

"The less it tastes like coffee, the better," she mumbles in a sleepy rasp, finally sitting up and stretching until several joints pop.

Rose's back is to her while she fiddles with the coffeemaker. She takes a moment to admire the sight of Rose in nothing but a loose men's dress shirt. Luisa's not sure how or why she has it, but it looks fantastic on her. Rose hands her a mug before settling back in bed, opening a packet of powdered donuts she grabbed from the minibar. She sticks one between her teeth before offering Luisa the rest. As she reaches over to snag one, she notices a handful of pink flowers bound with string on the nightstand.

"What are those?"

"Hmm?"

"The flowers."

Rose freezes. Then she swallows and clears her throat. "Ah, those. Um, room service brought them up?"

"You ordered flowers from room service.”

She nods earnestly.

Luisa raises her eyebrows. “And nothing else. Not even pre-made coffee."

Rose sighs. "Okay, so I couldn't sleep and I may have gone out to the gardens and clipped some carnations last night. So here." She shoves them at her. "For you."

Luisa grins as she takes them. "You sap. I bet you bring every girl you sleep with flowers."

"Maybe. Is it working?" But despite her confident words, her cheeks are burning. Luisa watches with interest as it fans out to her ears and then down her neck.

She sets both her mug and the flowers on the nightstand. Then she grips either side of Rose's open shirt and draws her into a kiss, licking traces of powdered sugar from Rose's bottom lip. "Maybe. Now let me see how far down that blush goes," she whispers before she pulls Rose down on top of her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> According to [Wikipedia](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Plant_symbolism) (which is never wrong, don't lie to me), pink carnations are a symbol of a mother's love/a woman's love.
> 
> AREN'T I CLEVER?


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shit gets real

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys, this is my favorite chapter that I've written in the history of everything. And Susanna would've been so good for Luisa (and I'm still upset about the reveal because it still doesn't make sense) but this house is roisa trash. I'm sorry.

The next few days are a whirlwind of relaxing on the beach, sightseeing, and lots of sex. Being with Rose is easy. It feels like they've been together for weeks. Sometimes Luisa will almost forget it's not real until Rose calls her Lydia. Or when Rose gets text messages that make her expression tighten. When Luisa innocently inquires about them, Rose assures her it's unimportant and then changes the subject. "My boss just needs me to pick up a few things. Nothing to worry about. I'll get to them later. What do you think about this sundress?"

Not that Luisa herself is without her secrets. She excuses herself from Rose’s company several times over the following days to take heated phone calls.

One day, they’re enjoying the seabreeze from the comfort of two reclining chairs under a huge umbrella (“I’m a natural redhead, Lydia. I’ll burn without shade and at least SPF 80 sunblock!”) on the beach when Luisa gets another call.

When Luisa stomps back to their spot, Rose doesn’t glance at her, merely licking her thumb to turn a page in  _ Anna Karenina _ . “So who was that?” Rose asks, deceptively casual.

“My dad wants to know when I’ll be back,” Luisa lies easily. In truth, no one from her regular life knows where she is, although she’s seen some online photos of herself she has no recollection of from Oktoberfest. She lays back on her chair. The umbrella keeps all of Rose and Luisa’s top half cool, but she stretches her legs out to catch some sun. “He’s worried I’m taking too much time off work.”

“He sounds a little overbearing. How old are you again?”

“He means well. Sometimes I start to self-sabotage when I go long periods without a routine.”

Rose tilts her head. “Why is that?”

She fidgets. “Sometimes...when I have too much free time, negative thoughts start to show up and then they multiply and coagulate into this huge mass that feels like it’s crushing me and I isolate myself off from people who care about me and um, the situation goes downhill from there.”

“I see.” Rose takes her hand. “Is there something else at play?”

This conversation is getting a little too personal for Luisa’s taste so she clears her throat. “Don’t worry about it. I’m fine.”

Rose hums noncommittally, but Luisa can feel Rose’s eyes on her, even from behind her designer sunglasses, long after the discussion ends.

...

Luisa trusts Rose as much as Rose trusts her. So every time Rose leaves to go “run an errand”, Luisa gives her a two minute head start and then tails her. Part of her feels bad for stalking her like a clingy girlfriend, but she dismisses that thought. It's not like they're dating. This is casual. Rose knows that. She knows that. Totally 100% fun, casual sex. No feelings required.

Besides, Rose is a suspect. She's not following her because she wants to. This is about something bigger than her. About stopping the missiles that could kill everyone she loves. Then she thinks of Allison and is hit with a wall of guilt. She pushes that down too. The only reason she's been able to survive this long is by keeping her missions and her normal life separate. What happens in one has no bearing on the other. Of course, every time she goes to rehab, her counselors tell her repression is bad for her psyche, but this isn’t the time to start unpacking all that.

Unfortunately, everything Rose does seems perfectly normal. Once she stops by a cobbler to fix a heel. On another day, she picks up a karaoke machine. Today Luisa watches her leave the local supermarket with an ungodly number of chip bags. Presumably it's for the party tonight. Or maybe Mutter has a weakness for pickle flavored chips? How is she supposed to use that to her advantage? Pose as a traveling chip saleswoman to gain access to her hotel room? What if she’s completely wrong about Rose being in on Mutter’s nefarious plans? What if Rose is really just an associate working under Mutter’s cover identity?

She's getting more nervous by the day. It's been two weeks of running around Europe and she still hasn't gotten a real glimpse of Mutter. What if it's all a ruse? What if Mutter’s actually halfway around the world preparing to launch the bombs right now? She grits her teeth. She still has to go to the party tomorrow at least. Even the chance that Mutter might be there is better than nothing.

She's so wrapped up in her thoughts that she almost misses when Rose enters the hotel. She needs to get back before Rose finds her gone, especially because she said she was planning on spending the next few hours at the rooftop pool and they’d agreed to meet up once Rose was done with her errand. As Rose waits for the elevator, Luisa wretches open the service stairwell and sprints up eight flights of stairs. She has maybe five, ten minutes at the very most while Rose drops things off at her room. A few of the other guests and a hotel staff member jump when she bursts out of the stairwell, sheds her sarong and dives into the pool. Thank goodness she remembered to wear her bikini under her clothes this morning before she went stalking. When she surfaces, Rose is just opening the door to enter the pool area. Luisa swims over to her and props her arms up on the lip of the pool.

"What have you been up to?" Rose steps out of her sandals and sits, dangling her legs in the water.

"You know, just here swimming laps,” Luisa says, trying not to sound too breathless from her run. “Want to join me?" She tugs on one of Rose's ankles.

"I would, but I don't have any time. I've got to get ready for the party my boss is throwing."

"Oh.” She tries for nonchalant. “Have a good night, then."

"Actually, I'm allowed to bring a plus one. Are you doing anything tonight?"

Luisa leans her head on a hand and smiles. "I've always got time for you."

...

If Mutter is going to be here tonight, she needs to be as unobtrusive as possible. That's why she goes with a knee-length red dress with just enough flare in the skirt to hide the gun strapped to her thigh. It's plain and modest, something a girl would wear to the homecoming dance. But Rose still eyes her appreciatively when they meet in front of the statue of Neptune.

"You’re so beautiful," Rose says, kissing her cheek.

"That's what a good date is supposed to say. And I guess you look okay too. Nothing special." It's a gross understatement. Rose would look good in a burlap sack, but she's a vision in black tonight.

Rose grins, unperturbed. She knows she's stupid hot. She offers Luisa her arm. "Shall we?"

When they enter the casino, Luisa spots Mutter right away. Amid all the uncertainty on this mission, at least the DIA knows what she looks like. She doesn't look like a drug lord. Luisa thinks she looks like any rich, middle-aged, white lady you'd find in Miami. Even her style is very South Beach. She's in a white wrap dress and a long, golden necklace with a decorative stone.

"Do you mind if we check in with her?" Rose asks.

"No, of course not. She's your boss."

"Diane, this is my date, Lydia. Lydia, Diane."

Mutter's gaze flickers with something when their eyes meet but it's gone before Luisa can figure it out. "Lovely to meet you. Now Rose, make sure you..." 

She goes right into details of the acquisition deal. If Luisa's hoping to pick anything up from their conversation, she's disappointed. They use dumb lawyer words like "due diligence" and "indemnification provision." If it's code, it's not one Luisa can make heads or tails of. She's running through ways to break into Mutter's hotel room to search for the flash drive when the light catches the base of the stone on Mutter's necklace. There's a glint of silver metal between the fastening and the stone itself.

It could be nothing. Or it could be the flash drive embedded in the stone. It would make sense for Mutter to carry it around. Can't exactly have the cleaning staff accidentally come across top secret information. Luisa really hopes she's right or she's going to screw up the only chance she has for saving America and maybe the world as we know it. No pressure or anything.

Usually she would drink something to calm down, but she doesn’t want to take her eyes off Mutter for a second and then risk losing her. So she waits and fidgets and waits. Rose, for the most part, pulls her along and mingles with the other guests, using more lawyer words to charm them.

"Are you okay?" Rose asks. She's free now that most people are drunk enough to think karaoke is a good idea.

"Yeah." Luisa glances at Mutter. "Why do you ask?"

"You seem tense and distracted."

"Oh. I'm just nervous. Don't know anyone. You know."

"Are you sure?" Rose pushes a loose strand of Luisa's hair behind her ear. "You can talk to me."

And now's her chance! Mutter's heading away from the party!

"I have to go to the bathroom. Be right back." She brushes her lips against Rose's wrist and rushes after Mutter.

Looks like Mutter had the same idea because Luisa catches a glimpse of her pushing open the door to the bathroom. Luisa takes a deep breath and then goes in after her. Right as Mutter exits the stall, Luisa brings up her gun, equipped with a silencer.

"What—" But that's all Mutter gets out because Luisa fires once. Mutter crashes into the side of the stall before sliding to the floor.

"Shit," Luisa hisses. She always forgets her hands shake unless she takes a shot before she shoots. The bullet clipped Mutter's temple. There's a lot of blood but Luisa feels around for a pulse. The thready beat confirms that she's only knocked out. Still, she can’t risk a second shot. Even with a silencer, gunshots aren’t completely silent. The bathroom has great acoustics and she can't afford to have someone come investigate now.

Luisa jerks the necklace from around her neck and yes! The stone can be pulled away to reveal a flash drive! She really hopes it's the codes and not family vacation photos or something, but it's too late to worry about that now. There's no time to check. She just shot someone. It's only a matter of time before the whole place is in an uproar.

She props Mutter on the toilet seat and locks the door from the inside before scrambling out from under the stall. She wipes up the blood as best she can before she leaves the bathroom. From there she hurries to the hotel garage, swiping a pair of keys as she passes the valet stand.

When she presses unlock on the key fob, a sleek Aston Martin chirps at her. The headlights blaze to life as she turns the keys in the ignition. Unfortunately, this catches the attention of the valet on duty. He runs out to block her way out. "Hey! You can't do that!"

"I'm sorry! It's a matter of international security!" she shouts. She floors it, giving the poor boy a split second to jump out of the way. The tires squeal as she tears out of the garage. She can hear the first shouts of panic as people come running out of the casino. Guess they found the body.

She weaves in and out of highway traffic, barely avoiding multiple collisions, and fumbles in her purse for her phone. She presses speed dial nine once she gets a hold of it.

"Is this a booty call?" an accented voice answers.

"Susanna!" Luisa gasps as sirens start to wail behind her. "Are you still in Valletta?"

She’d contacted an old friend (okay, an old flame) and called in a favor when she first heard Mutter would be in Malta. Susanna had been a pilot in the Navy before the DIA had poached her. Unlike Luisa though, she'd taken up the agency's offer of freelance work. Now she was a private investigator who occasionally got called in for missions.

"Yeah. Ready to go in the company's G6. Feelin' fly like a—"

"If you finish that lyric, I will murder you. Don't test me! I almost killed someone ten minutes ago!"

"Excuse you, that song is a classic. But chill, girl, I got you. I'm at MLA just like you told me to be. Did you get it?"

"I hope so. I mean, I have  _ a _ flash drive. I don't know if it's the right one. But that doesn't matter. How fast can you get in the air after I get there?"

"Maybe ten minutes."

"Make it five. I'm bringing company."

She jabs the end call button. "Siri, how do I get to the airport?"

"Stay on Route One for the next ten kilometers. Destination is nineteen minutes away."

"Goddammit, I don't have that kind of time!" She tosses her phone onto the seat beside her. The sirens are nearing. She's nearly sobbing with panic as she sees the lights flash in her left side mirror. At least before it snaps off when she takes a turn too fast and dings another car.

The stereotype is true. Gays can't drive. No one will agree to insure her anymore. She takes taxis most of the time in Miami. So speeding down an unfamiliar highway in a stolen luxury sports car with foreign police hot in pursuit after shooting a woman (a high-profile drug lord in disguise, but still) is not the best situation for her nerves. God, she needs a valium.

And that's before the police open fire. She shrieks and crouches in the seat as the first bullets pierce the body of the car. The speedometer edges up to 200 km. She wrenches the wheel to the right to slide into a gap between two semi-trucks. It looks less badass than she was hoping for though because she slightly miscalculated the distance. There's a crunching sound and then the bumper flies off into the night. But it's not enough to shake the police. She can still hear gunfire. Seconds later, her rear windshield shatters.

"Jesus Christ! Siri, how much further?" she yells over the roar of the wind.

"In one kilometer, destination is on the right."

Her phone probably means that there will be a nice, respectable entrance that she can turn into to get to Departures. But she is being shot at, she doesn't have the time for nice and respectable. When the airport unfolds before her as she rounds a turn, she guns it and flies over grass and dirt before crashing through the measly chain link fence that surrounds the property. She tears across the asphalt, frantically searching for a Gulfstream.

She scrabbles for her phone and redials. "Where are you?"

"At the start of the runway five. I see you and your police escort. Let me light up the way for you." Seconds later, a flare arcs into the air.

Luisa yanks the wheel to the left and skids to a stop. Then she’s out of the car and sprinting to the plane. True to Susanna’s word, the engines are already rumbling. Bullets spray across the tarmac. She can barely make out Susanna furiously squawking in the cockpit as they ricochet off the plane’s frame. Honestly, she's probably more outraged by people damaging her beautiful plane than actually getting shot at. The plane starts to roll down the runway as Luisa reaches the open stairs. She tosses the necklace up to one of Susanna's crew.

"GO GO GO," Luisa screams. "GET THE FLASH DRIVE TO THE AGENCY NO MATTER WHAT HAPPENS."

Susanna picks up speed. Luisa manages to get one foot on the carpet of the interior before she feels something cold rip through her shoulder. She grunts; the breath too knocked out of her to scream. The force of it makes her spin to the side. Her knees buckle; she loses her footing.

“LU!” She hears Susanna shout distantly, but it seems she takes her last words to heart because she doesn’t slow down.

She topples backwards down the stairs and lands on the asphalt in a heap. The stairs fold up. She watches the plane accelerate and then take off, her head vibrating with the roar of the engines and her hammering heartbeat.

It feels like someone keeps sticking an ice pick into her flesh every time she takes a breath. The small clinical part of her mind that isn’t screaming in pain says gunshot wound to the back, fractured—maybe shattered scapula, likely broken ribs, torn trapezius, potential torn rhomboids, possible lung damage, probable damage to the subclavian. The second thought that comes to mind is  _ I hate getting shot _ . But then everything fades until all she's aware of is her shallow gasping. And then that's gone too.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for dubcon.
> 
> Buckle up kids, things get kinky (but like vanilla kinky, like first circle of hell kinky).

"Everyone I work with is an imbecile." Mutter snarls, pacing the hotel hallway. Her forehead is wrapped with gauze. "How do you even get an entire plane into Malta and then on the runway without any record with air traffic control? I need to intercept that plane and get the flash drive back before it gets to the US."

"I know. And I can find out for you," Rose says, laying a placating hand on her arm. "When have I ever let you down?"

"You have ten hours. Break her and then dispose of her. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Elena."

Rose waits until Mutter stomps away before she slips into Luisa's room. Luisa herself is passed out on the bed. Her dress has been ripped at the shoulder to expose her wound, which has been cleaned and bound. While she sleeps, Rose methodically undresses her before securing her limbs to the bedposts and blindfolding her. Then she sits on the nearby loveseat and opens a battered copy of  _ Crime and Punishment  _ while she waits for Luisa to regain consciousness.

...

When Luisa comes to, the first thing she notices is a sharp throbbing in her shoulder, worsened by her arms being strung up. The movement she can manage is very limited, but there's no metal digging into her wrists and it's too flimsy to be leather. Ties, maybe. Feels like they might be silk. And it's not sleep gluing her eyes shut. She's been blindfolded. An experimental twist reveals that her ankles have been similarly restrained. She can feel the bedspread against her skin, but besides the ties, nothing else. She is completely naked.

"Oh good, you're awake," a smooth voice says. There's the sound of a book snapping closed and then approaching footfalls. “You’re very lucky the bullet didn’t hit anything vital.”

"Hello, Rose." She turns in the direction of the voice. "Is this standard procedure for your patients? It’s a kinky setup. Or is this revenge for almost killing your boss?"

She feels the mattress dip as Rose sits next to her. "It's more for running off with a very important piece of jewelry."

"If you're gonna kill me, get it over with."

"Now why would I do that?" Rose breathes, leaning over to press her lips against the line of Luisa's jaw. "You are a work of art. Destroying you would be a tragedy, like painting over the Sistine Chapel."

Luisa scoffs. "I already told you that art line was cheesy."

"I think it's cute." She taps Luisa's nose with a finger. Luisa flinches. "Just like you."

Luisa thinks back to that first day together, waking up to Rose with her fingers in her hair and calling her adorable. "Did you know the whole time?"

"What do you mean?"

"Did you know who I was?"

"I knew you were an undercover operative from the US government. My job was to keep you distracted, but I wasn’t banking on you sneaking away to shoot Elena in the bathroom. But I don’t know anything else about you. I'm assuming your real name isn't Lydia."

"Is yours Rose?"

"No, but I've gone by a lot of names and worn a lot of faces. They all sort of start to feel real after awhile." She must notice Luisa subtly checking her restraints because she adds, "The more you pull on them, the tighter they'll get."

"Okay, so you're not gonna kill me. Why tie me up? You know things are more fun when I'm...uninhibited."

Luisa can hear the smile in her voice when she says, "That's true, but I'm afraid I'm in need of some information. You see, my boss is not particularly happy that we can't seem to find any evidence of a Gulfstream in the country for the past few days, its apparent air route, or anything on the captain or crew."

A grim sort of pride blooms in her chest. Good old Susanna. Always remembers to cover her tracks. "That's too bad," she says flatly.

"It's not, actually. We actually managed to retrieve one of the pilot's accomplices. And she's going to tell us the flight code since every plane, even ones on super secret missions, needs one to pass into US airspace."

"Sorry, can't help you. No idea." She flexes her wrists again despite the jolt of pain it sends through her shoulder. "So can I go now or what?"

"Nice try. I got a hold of phone records for every air traffic controller at MLA and it seems like you called this Merlo character quite a few times in the days leading up to the G6 leaving Valletta."

"Oh. That's rather odd," Luisa says weakly.

Susanna might be a pro at covering her tracks, but Luisa? Not so much.

"I'm a gambling woman Lydia, and I'm willing to wager that you convinced this poor lady to look the other way while you smuggled an entire plane in and out of Malta at best or actively implicated her in this conspiracy at worst."

"Yeah, to return stolen missile codes to their rightful owner."

Rose doesn't deny it. Luisa feels a little bit heartened that at least she got the right flash drive.

"Regardless," Rose says coolly, "it's my job to retrieve them. And to do that I'm going to need your cooperation."

Luisa hears something being squirted out of a bottle and then hands being rubbed together. Lotion? But then Rose runs her hands down the sides of Luisa's bare torso. She squirms. Wherever Rose touches, the skin tingles. Lube then. And with a sinking feeling, Luisa knows exactly what's about to happen.

"Shall we begin?" Rose asks, her voice silky.

"Do your worst," Luisa says, with more bluster than she feels. "I've slept with a lot of women. I doubt you could do anything that could surprise me."

"Oh, you've never experienced anyone like me." Rose trails her fingertips across her bare skin and despite her best effort to come off as bored and indifferent, she shivers, goosebumps erupting across her body.

The best thing she could do is fall asleep. It's the epitome of spite. Show Rose that her plan to make her give up Susanna will fail because Rose has no power over her. She hopes that sooner or later Rose will tire of the game, especially since it doesn't seem like she's in any real danger. Unfortunately, she can't seem to relax enough to drift off between her wound and Rose's roaming hands, which her traitorous body responds to, curving into every touch. And every time she manages to tamp down on her reactions, Rose will focus on a particular sensitive spot and shatter her concentration.

Heat is gradually building under her skin, rising to her chest and cheeks. It would be easier if it scorched through her like a chemical reaction and left her burnt out, but Rose seems determined to raise the bar as slowly as possible. Luisa loses track of time. It could be minutes or hours that Rose spends simply touching her, running her hands everywhere except where Luisa really wants. Her hand is cool when she traces it from her sternum down her torso. It feels like a balm against her feverish skin.

Luisa flinches when Rose breathes on her collarbone. She holds back a stifled sputter as Rose sucks dark bruises on the soft skin above her collarbone. She strains against the silk ties, which—true to Rose's word—tighten, making her shoulder burn even more. Rose brushes her fingertips against her nipples, and they harden. At this point, she's panting from the lack of stimulation. She cants her hips, looking for friction, but meets nothing but air. She wants more, more now. But Rose merely tempts her by sucking another bruise to one side of a breast before she moves on.

She continues her way down, spotting her skin with love bites. Despite the hostile situation, Rose doesn't bite. Luisa is a biter, but Rose has always been so gentle during sex. She even smooths her marks over with her tongue afterwards. Luisa twists in a vain attempt to ease the tension. She's sweaty and slippery and desperate. When she tries to bring her thighs together for some semblance of relief, Rose clucks her tongue and eases them apart again. "None of that."

"Don't tease." She squirms under her. "Rose, please."

She chuckles. "That's kind of the point. Be patient. We haven't even gotten to the fun part yet."

There's a rip. She winces when something cold and then warm is laid over the juncture of her thighs. There's a slight buoying in her chest that has nothing to do with Rose's actions. She's oddly touched that Rose has bothered with protection even though she's trying to get information out of her.

"So turns out you can teach an old dog new tricks," Rose says conversationally. There's a flick of a switch and then a low buzzing sound.

"Oh no." Dread pools in her stomach even as her body reacts, getting wet in anticipation.

"What's wrong? I seem to recall you rather enjoy my rabbit."

Luisa doesn't answer. She's right.

"I can stop. All you have to do is give in."

"Not yet," she says through gritted teeth.

Rose sighs. "If you insist."

She barely grazes her clit with the vibrator. Luisa jerks, keening, her body responding viscerally to direct stimulation. Rose gives her a few seconds to recover before she presses it against her again, this time for a split second longer. Her hips thrash. Rose repeats this for how long? Mere minutes? It feels like days. Sometimes Rose will press just a hair harder. Other times she kicks up the speed a notch. Longer and longer until Luisa feels the pressure curling inside her building to a roar.

But Rose knows her well enough to gauge how close she is. She waits until Luisa is nearly there and then pulls back at the last possible second. Luisa growls, the sensation fading.

"Do you want me?" Rose whispers.

"For god's sake, fuck me," she snarls.

"What would be the fun in that?"

Rose draws it out again and again until Luisa is writhing with displeasure. The flight code is branded on the inside of her eyelids, on the very tip of her tongue. All she'd have to do is say it out loud.

The other head of the vibrator circles her slit, the same torturous cycle repeating itself. Rose gives her more and more in the slightest of increments until Luisa's bucking frantically in an attempt to slide it further in, but Rose merely pulls away. And then she positions both parts of the vibrator against her simultaneously. Rose riles her up faster and faster, but still refuses to let her fall. She plays her like the tides, knowing exactly when she'll surge and bringing her down to an ebb and flow.

Luisa whines. Her shoulder is screaming. Her feet have cramped up from curling her toes for so long. She is drenched in sweat. The bedspread clings to her when she arches her back. She is hyper aware of every inch of her skin. She feels too much and it's not enough, not what she wants.

Tears are leaking from the corners of her eyes out of sheer sexual frustration. "Please," she gasps. "Please, please, please." 

"You can stop this anytime you want," Rose murmurs into her neck. "Just five little digits."

She presses an open mouthed kiss against the skin under the corner of her jaw. Everything in Luisa trembles.  _ Say it, say it, say it, _ pounds in her head like a mantra.

And when Rose licks up to her earlobe and her breath hitches ever so slightly in Luisa's ear, and she angles the vibrator just right against opening and her clit, she can feel herself cresting...until Rose turns it down, and release eludes her again.

Is it the seventh time she's done this? The twentieth? She's lost count. It feels like it's been forever. Luisa is only human. She's only a tiny, gay disaster.

"R6472!" she sobs. "R6472. Please, Rose, just—"

"Was that so hard?" Rose purrs.

And finally, finally Luisa whimpers in relief as the heat that's been coiled tighter and tighter throughout her body suffuses itself into a deep languor. She sags, utterly exhausted.

"Good girl," Rose says. 

Rose releases her wrists and ankles, giving her a small smile when she undoes her blindfold.

"Come on, sweetheart." She tugs a robe around her and slings Luisa's good arm around her shoulders. They limp to the bathroom. Rose sits her down at the edge of the tub while she turns on the water and adds bath salts. Luisa closes her eyes and leans against her while they wait. Logically, she knows she should be outraged that Rose has the audacity to look after her after being the cause of her torment. But she's too fatigued to make a fuss.

When it's full, Rose undresses her and eases her into the tub. She lets her soak for a few minutes before she lathers up a loofah with body wash and rubs her down. In a reversal of earlier events, there are no sexual overtones. It's all very innocuous, tender even.

When the water gets cold, Rose helps her out and briskly towels her down. She wraps a towel around her before she leaves for a minute to retrieve Luisa's ratty extra-large pajama shirt and a pair of boyshorts. Her expression is soft when she tugs into them place. Not that Luisa notices. Rose leads her back into the bedroom, turning down the sheets before laying her down and folding the covers over her again.

Maybe it's the ordeal catching up to her. Maybe it's a long dormant response to being tucked in again after her mother's death rising to the surface, but Luisa's eyes start to droop. Rose leans in to kiss her on the forehead, her hair falling around them like a curtain. She smells like sex and sweat and that odd trace of ozone.

"You don't have to be tied up in this mess. Go home. Be safe."

The last thing Luisa's aware of is the click of the door swinging shut.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luisa being a(n adorable) BOSS ASS BITCH

She wakes up with the telltale torpor of an excellent orgasm, content to wiggle under the covers and doze a little more until the events of the day before hit her full force. Now that the desperation is gone, there’s a righteous fury building low in her stomach, ready to burst into flame. How dare Rose use her sexual prowess to goad her into giving up state secrets? Does she even have a right to feel betrayed? She went in knowing full well that Rose was an enemy. Why does she care so much anyway? Psh, it’s not like she has feelings for her. But it doesn’t change the fact that she feels used. The sex was the one thing they didn’t lie to each other about and to have it turned around as a weapon against her is offensive.

She throws the covers off, gritting her teeth when her shoulder squawks at the sudden movement, and heads over to her open suitcase to take inventory. All her things have been looked through and rearranged, although it doesn't look like anything's been taken, not even her gun.

Her watch is on the dressing table. She fastens it onto her wrist. There's a nearly imperceptible dot under the twelve, indicating a missed message. When she presses her thumbprint to its face, the message reads, "Diane Noella aka Elena di Nola. Both have holdings in Cayman Islands. Property on Cayman Brac." There's an attachment with blueprints and other details of an estate.

Three guesses where Mutter will most likely go to regroup.

She frowns. The message is from an hour ago, which means the DIA doesn’t have the flash drive, which means that Susanna is probably dead. A visceral stab of guilt makes her gasp and bend double to clutch at the edges of the vanity. This is her fault. One of her oldest friends is dead because she couldn’t hold off for a few hours at most. She’s dead because Luisa’s selfish, self-serving moment of weakness. She asked for a favor that led to her death. Her fault,  _ her fault _ , HER FAULT. This is solely on her shoulders. She has no one to blame but herself.

She curls in on herself, hunching her back like that will ward off her thoughts. Why is she like this? All she ever does is thinks of herself. She is irresponsible and flighty, a liar and a coward, a dysfunctional failure. She is completely unlovable. She is weak, she is worthless, there is nothing redeeming about her. And now Susanna, who was a better person that she will ever be, is dead because she couldn’t resist seducing a mark.

She needs something to quiet the accusing voices echoing in her head. She lurches for the minibar and falls to her knees in front of the fridge, scrabbling for something alcoholic. Her fingers close around a mini bottle of scotch. She chugs it like water, feeling the pain dull as the alcohol burns her throat. But then she bursts into tears. Everything she’s been suppressing rises in her throat like vomit: being played by Rose, getting shot, failing the mission, killing Susanna, the impending end of the world as we know it. She clutches her chest as shuddering sobs wrack her body. It’s too much. She feels too much. But the more she drinks, the more blessedly numb she feels.

It takes every shred of willpower she has to stop herself before she can get blackout drunk again. Who knows when Mutter is planning to launch the missiles? She doesn't have two days to sober up again. She grips a little bottle of whiskey and closes her eyes, breathing deeply. Her hand shakes a little; she can hear the liquor sloshing inside. She can do this. She's in control. She can hold onto it and not give in. It would be so easy to unscrew the cap and bring it to her mouth. But she won’t, because she’s stronger than than this bottle. She is more than her urges. She’s bigger than this disease. This is okay. Susanna could've survived whatever Mutter had planned for her. She's resourceful, whip-smart, quick on her feet. Everything's going to be okay. She just needs to finish the mission. Wrap up any loose ends.

She feels her mind sharpen through the haze of alcohol as she goes through what she needs to do. Go to the Cayman Islands. Infiltrate Mutter’s house. Make sure the flash drive gets back to the US. She can do that. Rose told her to go home. That means Mutter won't be expecting her. She has the element of surprise. That's all she needs. She takes a metadoxine and rolls her neck until it cracks.

Time to get to work.

...

The jet lag is more manageable going west. She's even gained half a day when she touches down in Cayman Brac. On the ride over, she's taken notes on the layout of Mutter's mansion according to the blueprints and satellite photos the DIA sent her. The property is well guarded. There are mentions of an electric fence, a small force of private security, and massive underwater caltrops to deter submarines from getting too close to the estate. There is, however, a dock leading out into the water with a jaunty sailing yacht moored to it. Luisa flips through her notes and bites the top of her pen. The guardhouse is a reasonable distance away from the dock. Assuming that there's only a few sentries on duty near the water, it could be her way in.

The sun is beginning to set when she swims out to Mutter's waterfront. Her breaststroke is weaker than she’s used to but she took an oxy before she headed out so the pain is manageable. And it looks like she was right. There's only one guard on duty on the dock, sitting on a fold-out chair and smoking a cigarette. She eases herself into the dinghy and crouches down as she pulls off her helmet and begins to strip out of her wetsuit. It's more cramped than she was expecting though and in her haste, her elbow knocks into the gunwale. The dull bang echoes across the quiet courtyard.

She prays that the guard didn't hear it, but no such luck. She can hear the hollow thunk of his boots on the wooden slats as he approaches the boat. She silently lifts a speargun from where it's strapped on her back and aims it at where the footsteps stop. The sail prevents either of them from seeing each other. There's a long moment where neither of them move. Then the man leans over the edge of the dock and spots her.

Luisa's learned her lesson. She had a shot of tequila before she went for a swim so her aim is true. His hands go to the steel sticking out of his chest, his expression bemused, before he collapses to his knees and tumbles into the sea. She doesn't know how much time she has before the shift changes or if they check-in periodically via walkie talkie. She peels the rest of the suit off, kicking frantically when it tangles around her feet. She makes sure everything is in place: her semi-automatic and attached silencer, extra magazines, her flask of rum, which she takes a sip of before she vaults up onto the dock.

She tucks the flask into her inner suit pocket and straightens her tie before she strides down the dock. Apparently she must've triggered some sort of alarm because men in black combat gear swarm seemingly out of nowhere and fan out into a defensive position. Shots ring out. She ducks behind the nearby boatshed and returns fire, each one of her bullets finding their mark unerringly. While she stops to reload, the remaining force has found cover. It'll be completely dark in a few minutes. Maybe she could sneak by them since she didn't see any night vision goggles, but she could be wrong. 

Nope. Flashlights turn on to focus on the boatshed. Easy peasy. She bends down to grab a rock and then throws it in the opposite direction. When the beams swing in that direction, she starts sprinting toward the mansion, her gun up and shooting. She takes out three before the rest of them realize what she's done, but by then she's already halfway across the lawn and nearly outside effective range. Thank god she wore riding boots today instead of heels. Their shots continue to whistle past her.

She snarls and stumbles a bit when one hits her, but it's fired from far enough away that her bulletproof vest takes it, though she’ll have bruised ribs by tomorrow. She reaches the house, a modern behemoth, all glass and steel. Lucky for her since she barely has time to shatter a floor-to-ceiling window with a bullet before she barrels through into the house, slipping on broken glass. She's in some sort of living room. It's dark and empty, but Luisa doesn't have time to wonder why Mutter wouldn't have help that would come investigate. She can hear what's left of her guards pounding their way behind her.

According to the blueprints, there should be a staircase leading down to a basement in this wall, but all she sees is a fireplace and a suspiciously large painting. On closer inspection, she pulls on an edge of the painting and jumps back when it swings open on well-oiled hinges to reveal a code-secured steel door. She rolls her eyes because really? How obvious can you get? But her opinions on lair decor will have to wait because the ragtag team of Mutter's security have caught up with her, picking their way through the mess and swinging their flashlights around. They seem hesitant to start shooting indoors. That’s their loss.

She dives behind a sofa and takes two out before the remaining three think to hit the ground and scramble for cover. Maybe she's a little too tipsy (and high) to be appropriately scared, maybe she's just tired of being shot at, but she's so sick of dragging this out. She creeps two feet to the left, silent on the glass-free side of the oak floors in her boots. She takes a running start and then slides on her good side down the length of the room, shooting three times. Two of the men jerk and fall back in identical sprays of blood. The last one she hit in the wrist.

He grapples with his gun, trying to steady it with his fractured hand as she stalks toward him, glass crunching underfoot. "Don't bother," she says, kicking it out of his hands as he yelps in pain.

She yanks him up by the back of his uniform and drags him over to the door, shoving him at it. "Enter the code. If you turn around, or look at me, or do anything besides enter the code, I'll put a bullet in your brain."

When he hesitates, she fires at his feet. "Last chance."

He jumps and runs his fingers over the keypad. It beeps once and turns green. The door slides open.

"Thank you. You can go now," she says, pushing him out of the way. When he makes one last ditch attempt to grab her gun, she catches his broken wrist and squeezes before she kicks him in the knee. There's a nasty cracking sound. He screams. "Don’t push your luck, pal," she says calmly as she points her gun at him again.

He takes her advice this time and scuttles backward like a crab.

When the door glides shut behind her, she's left in the pitch-black darkness. There's light at the bottom of the staircase. She can hear low voices. How many people are down there? She inches her way down the stairs. There's a deafening creak underfoot. She scrunches up her face when she hears the voices stop and approaching footsteps. So much for the element of surprise.

She dashes down the remaining few steps and jumps into plain view, her gun aimed at the room’s occupants. Mutter and Rose stare back at her, clearly shocked. They're in some sort of bunker, a den with a kitchenette and a door that looks like it leads to a bedroom in the corner surrounded by gently humming machines. There's a large screen with a map of the world that takes up an entire wall.

Mutter recovers first. "You again!" She turns to Rose. "I told you to take care of her!"

"I did," Rose says, not taking her eyes off Luisa. Her expression is pained and disappointed.

"Not the way I wanted you to! Do I have to do everything myself in this criminal empire?"

"Tell me where the flash drive is or I'll kill you," Luisa says, her voice a little shaky. She needs another drink. It's probably her high metabolism and not the fact that Rose is here. 

Mutter ignores her. "I know that you know that I meant to kill her."

Luisa means to fire a warning shot over Mutter's left shoulder, but the trigger merely clicks. She wasn't counting how many shots she had left and now she's out of bullets. "Shit, hold on a second."

"Yes...well, things didn't play out that way," Rose replies in a steady voice.

"Oh, please. Don't give me that drivel. I've seen you snap a man's neck with your bare hands. How hard is it to kill one tiny, incompetent woman?"

"Hey!" Luisa says, still fiddling with her magazine.

"Let's be honest here. The fact that you got the flash drive to your pilot friend was pure luck. And I got it back anyway." She points to the console under the huge screen. The necklace is sticking out of a usb port.

"What did you do to Susanna?"

"What do you think I did? The moment she landed at MTN, I had my people storm the plane disguised as ramp agents and kill everyone on board. And it's thanks to you, naturally."

Grief chokes her, threatening to overwhelm her, but it's put on the backburner when Mutter draws her own weapon, a submachine gun, out of nowhere. "But I've grown tired of your antics. Any last words?"

Rose rolls her eyes. "Really, Elena? The MP5 is overkill. She's only seven feet away."

"The only thing that'll be overkill is her when I shoot her full of bullets."

Luisa slowly raises her hands over her head, her shoulder protesting, her gun in one hand and the magazine in the other. "Whoa, yeah, okay. Let's be reasonable about this, okay? Um, aren't you going to gloat about your diabolical plan for world domination? I'm guessing you're not firing nuclear weapons for kicks and giggles."

"Oh, you know, it's cut and dry. Your standard 'fire American nukes at the biggest cities in China and Russia and provoke them into World War III which will lead to the annihilation of at least 75% of the world's population and then I can rise to power over the survivors once most of the idiots in America are dead' sort of deal."

Luisa squints. "Seriously? You know there are grown-ass adults eating Tide Pods. Give it a few years and let natural selection do the rest. There's no need for missiles."

"I intend to rebuild society in my own image. I need a blank slate. And I would've already started if Amazon wasn't late with their delivery!"

“What are you getting from Amazon that’s so important?”

“A five-year supply of Kraft Mac ‘n Cheese.”

Rose covers her face with her hands and sighs loudly.

"Wait, the only thing stopping you from starting a nuclear war is macaroni and cheese?"

"If I'm going to wait out the worst of nuclear war, I'm going to need comfort food."

There’s a pause while Luisa waits for her to say “surprise” or “just kidding.” It doesn’t happen.

"Oh my god," she whispers. "You're not joking."

"Of course not. Why would the future Empress of America lie about that?" She pumps the barrel of her gun. "Alright, you've had your fun. I humored your last request. Goodbye Lydia, or whoever you are."


	7. Chapter 7

Luisa flinches, her eyes squeezing shut, when there's a single bang instead of a spurt of rat-a-tat shots tearing through her flesh. But there's no pain. She doesn't feel anything, except her jackrabbit pulse and the persistent strain in her shoulder. When she blinks, Rose has a gun pointed Mutter's body on the ground. There's a puddle of blood pooling under the hole in her chest.

To Luisa's surprise, Mutter starts to laugh in a horrible gurgle. "You fool. Told me...to trust you...and betrayed me twice...for this...fleeting infatuation," she spits, blood flecking her lips.

Luisa glances at Rose, her stomach fluttering now of all times, but Rose's face is cold and composed.

"Had my doubts." She takes a rattling gasp. "...about you...took some precautions...programmed missiles to launch...when my heart stops." She makes sort of a choking cackle and then falls still.

Right on cue, the screen on the wall turns red and begins a sixty second countdown in a detached, disembodied female voice. Rose tucks the gun into her waistband and sighs. "This is unfortunate."

"I'd say it's a little bit more than unfortunate." Luisa runs over to the machine, scanning the console and wringing her hands. "Isn't there some sort of self-destruct button?"

"Don't be ridiculous. This isn't some kind of overblown spy movie franchise that celebrates machismo and misogyny."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Never mind. But you're in luck because Elena didn't know that I knew the override codes." Rose slides across the floor in an office chair in front of the console but hesitates with her hands above the keyboard. 

"What are you waiting for?" Luisa asks, panic coloring her voice as the machine says, "Fifty-one."

"You need to get out of here."

"What? I'm not leaving until I make sure you enter the damn override codes. Now will you hurry up? I'd like to wake up to a world that's not a nuclear wasteland."

Rose taps her earpiece and says, "Perrin, report to the fallout shelter now."

"Are you calling for a guard? I might've killed most of them to get in here."

"No, Perrin's one of my own. Listen, entering the override codes will also trigger the detonating charges that Elena installed throughout the entire estate. It was her way of ensuring she'd die before she was caught. So you need to go."

There's a pause as Luisa takes this in. If the override codes don’t work, the missiles will launch. If they do, she’ll be able to get the flash drive to the DIA, but Rose will die. She knows what the right choice is, the choice that everyone wants her to make. After everything that’s happened, it shouldn’t be a hard choice to make. She grabs one of Rose's hands anyway. "Come with me. Leave all this behind. We could start over."

"In the nuclear wasteland?"

"I mean, it's not ideal but it sounds a lot better than leaving you here. I’m not over you helping to kill Susanna but I don’t want you to die in a fiery explosion either."

"Why does it matter? We don't love each other, Lydia. We don't even know each other's real names!"

"I know I feel something real for you. What we had wasn't all fake, was it?"

"No," she admits, swallowing hard. "Not all of it was fake."

"So come on. I’m willing to take a chance on that," Luisa says, tugging her out of the chair.

Perrin comes barreling down the stairs. Rose motions to him to wait and then takes both of Luisa's hands. "There's a 50/50 chance we all die anyway when I disarm the warheads. Elena was sadistic like that."

"Yeah, I picked up on that."

"So before that happens, I just wanted to say you look really hot in that suit. And suspenders? Goodness Lydia, I’m already gay, you don’t need to intensify it."

"Yes, well, running around gunning people down is a lot harder in a dress. And my ass looks great in these pants."

Rose tries to smile but it's more of a grimace. "It really does. And for the record, I...I do care about you. And I'm sorry for this."

"For—"

She grabs Luisa's tie and pulls her into a bruising kiss. And for a moment, everything else fades, even the machine's ominous “Twenty-four." Then Rose slides something into her pocket with one hand and plunges a hypodermic needle into her neck with the other.

Luisa staggers as her vision blurs but Perrin is there to catch her. Whoa, that is a fast-acting sedative. She's also a little drunk and on painkillers so that probably doesn't help.

Rose's voice sounds so far away when she says, "Get her back to her hotel."

Perrin tries to drag her by the hand first, but she digs in her heels and flails around crying for Rose. Once she manages to land a weak punch to his throat, he gives up and simply throws her over his shoulder in a fireman's carry. He kicks open a secret trapdoor to the outside, huffing as he sprints for the front gate. 

"Rose, nooo," Luisa moans as she bounces against Perrin's back.

He pushes open the gate and pounds the pavement. It almost seems like they'll make it out of the blast zone when everything explodes. They both go flying. She hits the ground hard, bouncing and rolling until she skids to a stop on the dusty road.

Luisa pushes herself up onto her hands and knees, blinking away the blood flowing into her eyes. "Rose," she croaks, crawling forward through the flaming wreckage. She makes it two feet before the sedative fully kicks in and she collapses, slipping into unconsciousness.

...

She wakes up in the hospital.

_ No no no. Shit. _

Out of all the things the DIA pulled together to give her Lydia Aguilar's identity, the one thing they neglected was all-inclusive travel insurance. Apparently they couldn't find a company that would cover "injury or illness caused by alcohol, drug use, or reckless behavior", which honestly is her entire job description. If the hospital starts investigating her "insurance," her entire persona will fall apart unless she can get back to the States in time and have the human resources department iron it out.

Not to mention she's in a hospital gown. Which means whoever undressed her probably found her gun. And her bulletproof vest. And her alcohol. And whatever Rose slipped into her pocket. And if that doesn't raise eyebrows, she doesn't know what will.

She rips the IV out of her arm and stumbles to the base of the bed, snatching up the patient chart. God, she really needs to stop waking up after being drugged, shot, and/or drinking herself into a stupor. She blinks and squints until the squiggles rearrange themselves into legible words. Superficial lacerations, several abrasions, a myriad of very superficial contusions (those are the hickeys Rose gave her the day before), bruised ribs, healing gunshot wound to the shoulder. Nothing to warrant overnight supervision.

Luckily when she pulls on her own slightly singed clothes, she finds Mutter's necklace safe and sound in her pocket. She tucks her gun, ammunition, and flask back into their proper places. 

She argues with the discharge nurse, biting the inside of her cheek to keep herself from pulling the "I know what I'm talking about. I'm a doctor" card. The nurse does not agree to let her leave, but they seem pretty short-staffed so Luisa feigns giving up and going to her room quietly before she disables the alarm and slips out an emergency exit. 

It's nice that the override codes worked and she doesn't step out into nuclear fallout. She can see what's left of Mutter's mansion smoking in the distance. There are already helicopters crowding over it like vultures. There's no chance she can sneak past all the reporters, firefighters, and government officials trying to figure out what happened, even if there was a chance Rose survived.

She returns to her hotel to get her bag and then books the first flight out to DC.

...

She is very drunk when she gets to DIA headquarters, too drunk even to torment Buck.

"Miss Alver!" He leaps to his feet to steady her as she lurches into the office.

"Adrian, my dude, I wish I could tell you that you have even the slightest chance with this hot bod," she slurs, gesturing to herself up and down as she leans heavily against him. "But I'm so fucking gay."

"That's...uh, good for you?"

She stretches her arm up to pat his face. "Good luck out there, my small heterosexual friend."

"Alver!" ?! snaps. "Get in here."

Luisa puts a finger to her lips. "Shhh, I think I'm in trouble."

She shuffles into ?!'s office, flopping into the chair in front of her desk. "What’s up?"

?! doesn't mask her disgust when Luisa pulls out a bottle and starts guzzling straight vodka. “I suppose Peaceful Odyssey will be welcoming you back for another stay."

"Hooray for keeping my cover," she says, lifting the bottle in a toast.

"No, I think you'll need to stay for a least a month to get yourself some semblance of sobriety before we release you to resume your civilian identity."

Luisa narrows her eyes. "Release me? Like I'm some kind of wild animal? You people broke me down and rebuilt me into a weapon. And I'm sorry that my real human emotions as the consequences of these assignments you send me on are too difficult for you to deal with." She slaps the flash drive, the wallet, and her gun on the desk. "I'm done."

As she wobbles out, ?! calls after her. "Peaceful Odyssey is expecting you on Monday!"

"Yeah yeah, I'll be there," Luisa says over her shoulder.

...

**Two months later**

The discharge from rehab is quiet. Luisa's done this so many times she can recite her goodbyes in her sleep. (It was so nice getting to know you. I hope things change for the better. Keep fighting! Give me a call if you're ever in South Beath and need to talk to someone, okay?) The important thing is that her grief over Susanna and Rose is manageable and her alcohol/mild drug abuse is under control.

Her father picks her up to take her out to a family dinner at the Marbella to celebrate her graduation. She leans her head against the window and stares off into space while he raves about his newest girlfriend during the drive.

"She's straightforward, intelligent, passionate—"

"Ew. I don't need to know that." She grimaces.

"About her work! And independent and an all-around charming woman."

Luisa rolls her eyes. This is literally what he says every time he gets a new girlfriend.

"I saw that, young lady. Just give her a chance, get to know her, and I know you'll love her."

Mystery woman is late. Luisa and Rafael have been allowed to get drinks but nothing else. Their father wants to wait until his date shows up before they can place their orders. He's on the phone right now, asking where she is. Luisa and Rafael glance at each other from across the table and exchange a knowing look. Their father definitely has a type: young, pretty, usually vapid. A classic gold-digger.

So she's not expecting much when a whirlwind of red hair sweeps into view. That's new. Usually her father likes blondes. But then she's reminded of Rose and gulps her water so she can avoid looking at Mystery Woman's face and delay the inevitable letdown.

"I'm so sorry! Traffic was terrible." God, she even sounds like Rose. She thought she dealt with seeing Rose in other people in rehab. Maybe she just repressed it. Wouldn't be the first time.

"It's fine. We haven't ordered yet. Please sit down. And you know this is Luisa and Rafael."

Rafael gives a little wave. Luisa looks up...and locks eyes with Rose. She blinks. Is this a hallucination? No, it can't be because for a split second, Rose looks just as startled to see her before she schools her face into a politician's smile. "I've heard so much about you two from Emilio."

After a tense dinner, Luisa pulls Rose to the bathroom under the guise of "freshening up." She makes sure to check all the stalls are empty before she spins to face Rose. "What the hell are you doing here? I thought you were dead. I mourned you!"

But Rose is hunched over the sink. "You're Luisa Alver. Lydia Aguilar, Luisa Alver. Why didn’t I make the connection before? So stupid!"

"So you're not stalking me."

"No." She turns around to face her and leans against the sink. "I thought you'd gone home to live out your life in safety. I’d resigned myself to the fact that I was never going to see you again."

"This _ is _ my home! I grew up here! My father owns the hotel."

"I'm aware of that."

"Is that why you’re dating my father?” she sneers. “For his money?"

"Lyd-Luisa, who do you think I am? I have my own money. I have...feelings for him." To her credit, Rose is a pretty good actress. Luisa would imagine she'd have to be to pull off all the identities she's claimed to have. But her left eye twitches ever so slightly on the word "feelings."

Luisa rakes her hands through her hair and pulls against her scalp. "This is so messed up. My father can never know that I slept with his girlfriend, repeatedly...on a secret mission for the US government."

"No, I'd imagine not."

The sheer ridiculousness of the situation finally hits her. Rose is alive. Rose is here. Rose is...dating her father. Relief and rage and despair churn in her stomach. To her utter embarrassment, tears start to fall. She turns her face away from Rose. "I'm so angry with you! Do you know how many times in the past few months I've wished that you could show up in my normal life and we could explore whatever we have—had?—without the threat of nuclear war over our heads and I'm still so angry that you...I don’t even know what to call what you did to me! I mean, you didn't hurt me when you were told to kill me—maybe it'd be called coercion? Regardless, that was...really not okay and Susanna and people she trusted to help me are dead because of me as a result and then you drugged me and I thought you died in an explosion and I'm just so mad that I still have feelings for you!" She's not quite outright crying, but she's gasping for air at the end of her rant.

Rose approaches her cautiously, and when Luisa doesn't do more than continue to pant for breath, she folds her into an embrace. "You don't have to forgive me, but for what it's worth, I'm sorry for all the pain I've caused you." She pulls back and smiles, cupping Luisa's face and brushing her tears away with her thumbs. "It'll be okay."

Maybe Rose is just dispensing motherly advice, but Luisa leans in and kisses her anyway. The months fall away. They could be in Malta again, kissing leisurely on the beach. And it takes a long time before Rose pushes her away and says, "We can't" in a choked voice. "I'm with your father."

Luisa can't help puffing up in indignation. "I have a girlfriend anyway. Her name's Allison. She loves having sex in bathrooms."

Rose's expression is stony. She swallows almost imperceptibly before she says, "Good for you."

"I hope you and my father are happy together."

"We are."

"Great." Luisa wrenches the bathroom door open and stomps back to their table.

...

Her father gives her a ride home after dinner. When he stops in front of her her apartment, he places his hand on hers before she can leave the car. "Be honest,  _ chiquita. _ What do you think of Rose?"

"You were right," she says, trying to keep her voice from shaking. "I could love her."

He grins and kisses her hand, his beard scratching her skin. “That’s all I want: my girls getting along.”

She gives him a trembling smile. “Good night, Daddy.”

She hops out of the SUV and walks into the apartment complex. Before the mission, the line between her duty to the DIA and her real life was so clear. Nothing between the two were allowed to mix. And she thought all she wanted was to get back to all of this: her home, her job, her girlfriend. But now the line is blurring. And she isn’t sure what she wants anymore.

What she has with Allison is fine. It’s safe. She can see them moving in together and getting married and living out the rest of their lives together. But it’s not all-consuming the way being with Rose is like. No matter what Rose might feel for her, she’s still dangerous. Make no mistake, she’s planning something with her father. Luisa could leave it alone, leave them to be “happy” together. Go on with her life. Or she pursue Rose, figure out what she’s up to. And if it involves seducing Rose, so be it.

Well, she was never one for impulse control.

**Author's Note:**

> IT IS DONE.
> 
> I'm not 100% happy with how it turned out, but it's good enough. I'm just happy I finished it. This has literally been the only thing I've thought of for the last two weeks so now it's done, I can live my life in peace. I don't know if I'll ever write another Roisa fic but I hope you guys got a few chuckles out of this one.
> 
> As always, constructive criticism is always appreciated.
> 
> #protectluisaalver20gayteen


End file.
